Like Crack
by january sunshine
Summary: Random Wammy's House drabble. Why you shouldn't deprive a young Mello of chocolate...


**Okay**, so I don't own Deathnote, or half the characters used. They belong to the Shinigami Ohba and Obata, and they just inspire me. We love them, do we not? But I **do** own Alastor Rookwood, even though he doesn't really matter.

Well, this is just another fic about Mello and why you shouldn't take away his chocolate.

_Bon apetit!_

**Like Crack**

**:x:x:**

That was his eighth broken window. It made his record consistent with two broken windows per year he had been at the orphanage. This time, the football had gone flying through the first playroom, and one of the five-year-olds cut his foot on the shards; it also nailed Near in the head, surprising Mello at his sudden look at fortune. But Mello knew he was in trouble, for Roger immediately siezed his arm and tugged him inside. He was definitely in trouble for this one. All those windows... his last punishments were time-outs, lack of playtime, extra study hours, and forced assistance in household duties. Mello hoped he didn't have to scrub anything again; the bleach scent didn't come from his hands well and seemed to transport to his chocolate bars the next day.

Currently, he sat in Roger's office, creating his formal apology. Roger had stepped out for a few minutes, giving Mello a few moments of privacy as he "cooked up" Mello's punishment. By the time he returned, Mello had finished his apology, appropriately using seventeen new vocabulary words he had learned that morning. Roger read it calmly, then set it on his desk in acceptance. He would turn it in to Mr. Wammy later. But now...

"Mello, this is your eighth offense in four years," he stated calmly.

Mello leaned back in his chair, keeping silent in the fear of letting out something inappropriate which could possibly add onto his punishment.

Roger frowned at the silence. "You will be receiving two-weeks extra housework assistance," he began, "and you won't be allowed chocolate."

Mello's eyes widened. "While I'm cleaning?"

"At all."

"WHAT?!" Mello rose sharply, shoving the chair behind him as he stood in front of the desk. "You can't do this!"

"Yes I can. I shall be alerting all of the officials tonight. Each time you're seen with a chocolate bar in your hands, another day shall be added to your punishment."

"Bu--"

"No arguments. Your punishment starts now. After dinner, you will be helping Mister Rookwood in the kitchen. You're dismissed."

Mello stood quietly in the room for a second or two, before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Matt followed silently, listening to Mello's angry rant, until they reached one of the more deserted playrooms. It was mainly empty, the window opened for sunlight and fresh air, a few chairs scattered around tables. Puzzles sat on two of the tables, chess boards on others. Sitting on a chair near one of the puzzles was Near, a hand on his head, holding a small ice pack to his head, as he played with the pieces.

Mello promptly stomped over to him. "I didn't hit you that hard!" he barked immediately.

Near glanced up calmly. "It was forceful enough to fly five and a fourth meters into the room, after shattering the window. You had the ball moving at well past twelve kilometers per hour, Mello."

Mello narrowed his eyes, grabbing onto Near's pajamas. He pulled the kid to his eye level, but found himself irritated when he found no sense of annoyance behind the boy's matching, dark orbs. "This is _your_ fault. If you had only watched yourself..."

"Mello, I wasn't outside. I didn't force you to kick the ball," Near replied. "You cannot put the blame on others for your own mistakes. Live with the punishment you've been given."

So irritated at the boy, he snatched up the ice pack, grabbing a few strands of the boy's pale white locks, and threw the ice pack at his face. Near stumbled at the sudden impact that he leaned backward, trying to either shield his face or catch the patch, and soon fell back in his chair. As his small frame fell to the floor, he let out a small "oomf!" He rolled to his side, reaching to hold the back of his head as he detached himself from the seat.

Satisfied, Mello walked out of the room, Matt following him silently.

**:x:x:**

"You gonna eat at all?" Matt asked, looking at Mello.

The blonde shook his head. He seemed to have recoiled completely, arms at his sides, grasping the edge of the chair as he stared downward. He hadn't had chocolate for only three hours, yet already he was starting to show signs of anxiety. But Matt wasn't paying attention to that; if Mello wasn't going to eat, he was. He tugged Mello's tray over and began to eat his chicken fingers.

For a moment or two, they say in silence, before the brunette finally looked up, frowning slightly, cheeks still puffy with chicken. "You gonna be 'kay?" he asked, the American accent barely noticable through the food.

Mello stared, then leaned forward on the table. "I... want it... Matt..."

Matt sighed. "After dinner, kay? I'll try to sneak you some."

Mello nodded. He could hold out until then. Quietly, he left the table, hands in his pockets as he moved to the kitchen's. Mr. Rookwood, the chef of the orphanage, greeted him with a sympathetic smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry for ya, Mello," he said softly. "But ya know... once ya do somethin', you've gotta own up to it." He squatted and looked at the boy squarely in the eyes, smiling still. "Tell ya what. If you wash fifteen dishes on your own, you're free to go."

Mello frowned, but soon moved to the counter. Mr. Rookwood situated him onto a chair, helped him with an apron and his sleeves, and left him to work. All the while he scrubbed, slowly for some odd reason, he couldn't help but think about his sweets. He wanted them, and fast... but he couldn't seem to function. He managed to wash the fifteen dishes and soon had Mr. Rookwood drying his hands and asking if he was okay.

He was fine... just fine... only he wasn't. When he arrived into the bedroom, he saw Matt being admonished by one worker, Miss Anne-Marie, over his suspicious behavior and the nine chocolate bars he held in his hand. As Mello entered the room, she sighed, then turned to him. "You'll be just fine," she said calmly. "Good night, boys!" She exited.

Mello frowned. Matt had gotten caught. Of course, he didn't blame the eight-year-old for trying... he just dropped to the floor, and Matt didn't dare touch him.

**:x:x:**

The next morning was rather difficult. Mello didn't seem as if he had slept at all, and even Matt seemed a bit tired. The blonde would barely lift himself from the floor, let alone move elsewhere, and soon had Matt dragging him to his classrooms.

Miss Anne-Marie spotted Mello in his second classroom and was rather disturbed by the behavior. Surely, a child couldn't've gone into such a state after just one night. He could barely keep himself upright, sitting slouched in his chair in the classroom as he stared blankly at the book, unable to comprehend most of the words that met his eyes. He had a slight tremble and he could barely concentrate on his studying.

He seemed elsewhere. They gave him an easy task of wiping down tables, and he wiped at them slowly, though he seemed to have a bit of difficulty in actually cleaning them. They only watched him for a few, trying to see if this was just acting out because he wasn't being given his chocolates. He just went about without complaint, oddly, and soon went to his next class, staring emptily at a book until it ended.

Matt was deeply disturbed. He only watched as his friend soon began to sleep through his next class, as well as lunch. As lunch drew to a close, Matt poked the blonde with a fork, though he barely stirred. "Mello... you can't be losing it on me..."

When the boy didn't stir much more, Matt pondered for a moment. They had moved all chocolate bars out of his reach, but he realized something. Sitting on his lunch tray was a small carton of chocolate milk. Opening it, he stuck his straw in it, then pushed it across the table. "Chocolate."

Mello's head lifted weakly. "Chocolate?" he asked. Eyeing the milk, he reached over and soon began to drink it. It took only a few seconds for him to drain the carton, before he sighed in relief. That felt much better. "Oh god..." he whispered, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look so good..."

Mello frowned, then moved from the chair. "Be back soon, kay?"

Matt waited for a minute... five minutes... halfway through his next class. Mello just hadn't returned. Fearing he had been caught, he hurried to the fridge, only to see the boy on his seventeenth carton. His eyes widened as he saw his friend slowly sit down, holding a carton to his lips. He chugged the drink, then set it down, immediately opening another one.

"You're... you're addicted to this stuff!"

Matt wasn't sure what to do. Mello had been without chocolate for only one full day, and now was consuming as much as he could in the form of milk; he couldn't bring himself to stop him. He didn't know if it was safe. Mello had opened another carton and stuck a straw in it. Lifting the straw to his lips, he sucked out its contents quickly, then added it to the floor and began to reach for another one.

Mr. Rookwood calmly opened the door, then gasped at the sight. Immediately, he reached down and siezed Mello by the hand, tugging the child away from the cartons. The boy seemed to struggle at first, being roughly forced onto his feet by the cook. Matt followed quickly, seeing as Mello licked his fingers of spilled drink, and soon stared up at Mr. Rookwood in mild fear.

Mello was taken straight into Watari's office.

Mr. Wammy looked up immediately at the interruption. "What's wrong, Alastor?" he asked.

Mr. Rookwood frowned. "I don't think this punishment's good for his health. Mello's been devouring the chocolate milk cartons," he explained. "Anne-Marie says he hasn't been studying well at all, either."

"How long as he been under punishment?" Wammy asked.

"A day."

Mr. Wammy frowned. "Take him to the Infirmary."

**:x:x:**

Matt couldn't help but laugh as Mello climbed onto the couch next to him. "I can't believe you got off so easy," he said.

Mello nodded. He leaned back, unwrapping the foil covering on a new chocolate bar. Tugging it away, he took a bite and grinned. He wasn't quite at his full strength yet, but he was given time to recover. He had gone into a sort of relapse, experiencing symptoms rather quickly of his lack of sugar. After a blood test and a glycogen shot, they returned a chocolate bar into his hands and diagnosed it as a severe case of hypoglycemia. Due to the amount of chocolate he ingested, his body had quickly adapted to high levels of sugar. Without keeping those levels high, he weakened immediately.

"They can't take my chocolate, ain't that nice?" he said, grinning happily. They couldn't, unless they wanted to kill him. Mello had once again beaten the authority.

"You lucky bastard."

"Damn straight." Mello bit into the chocolate, a satisfied smirk on his face. Now, in addition to his behavioral problems, he had a medical condition; but at least one of those got him something he wanted. That medical condition worked in his flavor.

"See, Matt... life is sweet."

_**...owari...**_

You like? Teehee, it entertained me writing it, I don't even really know why. But now it's here, and it's for your reading pleasure, so tell me what you think!

**:Darkness Princess.**


End file.
